


3 Months Minus A Day

by doreah



Category: Episodes (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Missing Scene, POV Female Character, POV Multiple, Pregnancy, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 05, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-28 19:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doreah/pseuds/doreah
Summary: T-shirts, dope, duck mugs, shrinks, hiking and ultrasounds: Carol, Helen, and Beverly inexpertly navigate the 3 months between that bathroom and the screening room.





	1. Episode 1 (Beverly)

_Oh no._

_Oh. No._

Beverly hoped to god her body wasn't betraying the dismay her mind was facing as that bathroom door opened. Of course, she probably shouldn't be so grim because the look on Carol's face was anything but miserable. There was still that wriggling feeling that this thing she had with Helen was a terrible idea, again. _Again_. All it took was 5 minutes trapped in the loo with the her ex-boss and ex-girlfriend and Carol was falling over smitten again. In all fairness, (and she hated to admit this) Helen herself looked equally enamoured.

 Okay, maybe it wasn't so much of an “again” situation and more like a “still”. There was no denying the last few months had a very consistent theme. Carol's depression, stress, fascination, all of it had been down to a single cause: Helen. There had been barely a conversation where the woman's name hadn't come up in some way, often for very little reason. It had only been Beverly's doing when she wanted to catch Carol's attention. That should have been enough of a red flag. She suspected that even Merc Lapidus was a cheap and sloppy fill-in for the intimacy Carol was craving after having it snatched away so painfully. Too bad Merc had about as much emotional depth as puddle (that was probably for the best, actually). People generally weren't that preoccupied with others if there wasn't some undercurrent of infatuation or love. So, it was more like a “still”. Carol was _still_ in love, even during and after the heartbreak.

 Helen glanced at Beverly, obviously attuned to the death rays which were likely shooting from her eyeballs at this (completely predictable, in retrospect) development. Instead of some sort of silent stand-off, Helen gave the slightest wince, a meek smile before turning back to the woman of her affections. “I'm just going to talk to the lawyers.”

 Beverly had to use great restraint to not roll her eyes at Carol's rapt expression and that tiny, dopey smile on her lips.

 “I'll talk to you later?” It was a question and not a demand. There was something rare and soft in Helen's voice, as if she was tiptoeing around, afraid of spooking the younger woman.

 It was answered with a nod and possibly one of the stupidest grins she'd ever seen on Carol's face. “Call me.”

 Oh, for god's sake. It was like watching teenagers on a first date, gazing at each other and being infatuated idiots.

 “Okay.”

 With another dumb, besotted smile—this time from Helen instead—Carol hoisted her purse onto a shoulder. Beverly knew this awkward dance. She'd seen it, done it, and wrote about it in comedy for far too long. It wasn't funny or even remotely entertaining anymore. To cut the whole pointless exercise short, she jingled her keys and nudged her friend. Obviously the lawsuit wasn't going forwards and rather than stand around like a third wheel in some fancy lawyer's office, Beverly would much rather be sitting in barely moving traffic, in the blazing sun and smog, on the freeway, listening to conservative talk radio or alternately, Carol blathering like a fool about this new Worst Decision Ever.

 “I'm gonna go,” Helen tried again, obviously unwilling to leave. God, it was infuriatingly annoying.

 Beverly took Carol's elbow to break whatever weird bloody spell was being cast and politely said goodbye to Helen. Carol echoed the sentiment but with much more reluctance, dragging her feet as Bev began to move.

 

 

They said nothing for a good 10 minutes as they crawled through the bumper-to-bumper mid-morning traffic of downtown LA. Carol seemed more than content to just stare out the window, squinting every so often at the bright light glinting sharply off mirrored office buildings. She was brushing her lips, gently with a fingertip, over and over.

 Stopped at a red light, Beverly finally had to put a stop to the nonsense. “So, are we going to talk about what just happened in there?”

 “Oh my god!” And there it was. That was more like the Carol she'd come to know. “Oh my god!”

 “Yes, oh my god, is right.” She smirked, still waiting for the light to change. “That certainly wasn't how I expected today to go.”

 Carol laughed, that giddy sort of sound that called back to happier times, the first time around with Helen. “Me either! It's so crazy!”

 “That _is_ one word for it.”

 The other woman merely grinned again, turning her face back into the sunlight, basking. Beverly really didn't want to be _that_ person but somebody had to be the Negative Nelly and throw some reality into the situation. Perhaps it should happen when they weren't in the middle of traffic but god knows when that would be and it simply couldn't wait.

 She took a deep breath as the light turned green. “You know, I'm only saying this because I'm your friend and I don't want you to get hurt again but it's rather sudden... and convenient.”

 “What?” There was a lilt in her voice that sounded slightly offended, but also in denial. “That's crazy.”

 Again with that rather apt word choice. Beverly shrugged as she blew through a yellow light with slightly too much speed. “A lot of things seem to be today. You have to admit it's interesting that she chose to ambush you in the toilets right before your deposition against her.” There would never be an easy way to say any of this. “Don't you wonder if it was just a trick to get you to drop the lawsuit?”

 The sound of traffic whirled around them and Carol tapped her fingers against the car door nervously, worrying a her bottom lip between her teeth. A pained sort of whine escaped from her. “No.” She paused before glancing over at her best friend. “Not until now. Thanks for that.” Her previously gleeful disposition soured almost immediately like a thunderstorm moving in.

 Part of Beverly felt terrible for ruining the mood but somebody had to do it, especially when dealing with someone like Helen. She honestly couldn't trust that woman as far as she could throw her, and, very importantly: she had terrible upper body strength. There wasn't a universe imaginable where she wouldn't put it past Helen do be so cunning and wicked, especially with someone completely vulnerable like Carol. And yes, even if it took a special sort of dedication to make out with someone who had just vomited up breakfast. (Oh, she knew that happened.) Regardless, over and over she'd borne witness to people doing just that to her friend. This was the last straw. There was no way she could deal with the fallout like the last time again.

 The cars around them seemed to dissipate slightly as they turned off the boulevard. Carol said nothing more for a while. Instead, she spent an increasingly frustrating amount of time trying to find her phone within the depths of her purse until finally yanking it out and frowning at the screen. There were no texts or messages.

 A long sigh found its way out from the small body. “I don't think she'd do that.” It didn't sound convinced.

 “You don't?” An obnoxiously large SUV honked loudly next to them. “You do realise who we're talking about, yes?”

 “Yeah. I just...” A wince crossed her face and Beverly felt like a shit again for putting her friend through this already. Better to do it quickly, however. Like ripping off a plaster. Carol continued, slightly more ardently. “You weren't in there. You didn't see her. You didn't feel the way she...”

 Oh, bollocks. Poor, broken Carol. So easily swayed by a few gentle touches and kind words. “Well, I saw her afterwards and she looked like the cat that ate the canary.”

 That got an unexpected reaction. A sneer was shot her way and Beverly quickly turned back to the road rather than see the pissy look on Carol's face. “Why is it so unbelievable that she would still love me? That maybe I come first for someone? Maybe it's finally my turn!”

 “I'm not saying that at all, and you know it. I'm saying not to trust her yet. I don't want you get hurt again. You're not even over what she did the last time.” Beverly reached over and grabbed Carol's free hand. “I'm not trying to ruin anything.” She gave her a quick squeeze, hoping that would be enough to convince the younger woman that she wasn't the enemy, just like a protective mother bird.

 Eventually, Carol clenched a little in response before slipping her hand free. “Okay.” She brushed her fringe back from her face. “Fine.” She pouted. “Thank you.” A small chuckle escaped for a brief moment. “If you don't get a phone call with me screaming obscenities tonight, you'll know.”

 “I hope I don't.” It was the truth. She honestly didn't want to have her worse suspicions confirmed, at least for Carol's sake. But she couldn't help thinking they would be and sometime around 10 PM she'd be answering the phone with a crying, livid woman on the other end. And if it didn't happen in the next couple hours, there was no reason 3 days down the road the truth wouldn't come out just the same. Fuck Helen Basch. “Just wait 'til you tell her who the father is.”

 


	2. Episode 2 (Carol)

It took 5 rings to get that same message.

_Hi. You've reached Helen Basch. I'm not available right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks._

Carol tapped violently on her screen and ended the call. She was sick of hearing the same damn message. Sent 2 texts with no response. Called twice more. She refused to leave a voicemail. All of Beverly's nasty little suspicions seemed to be more and more real as the evening wore on. Maybe it was time for a different approach. Grabbing the blue t-shirt from her dresser drawer, she flounced downstairs and into the foyer. Yanking on her UGGs and pulling a hoodie over her head, she grabbed her car keys from the front table. Nobody was going to take Carol Rance for a fool _again_. There had to be a limit somewhere and fuck it, she was petrified of assertive confrontation but it had gone in her favour the handful of times she'd actually attempted it. Maybe the third time would be a charm. Fingers crossed.

 

Helen's silver car was parked in the driveway as Carol pulled up, slamming on the brakes far more roughly than even remotely necessary for the speed. Her whole body slammed back against the seat before she twisted out her keys the silence without the engine suddenly a bit deafening. Was she really doing this? Yes. Beverly was right. This shit couldn't happen again. Her fingers clenched around her keys right before she raised a hand to hit the doorbell. It rang, and rang again. And again. What the hell was Helen doing at this time of night anyway?

Finally there was a shadow in the front foyer and the slide of the lock snapped her attention back to the door. Helen was there, brow knotted with a bemused quirk of her lips, standing in her pyjamas, holding a mug of something hot and steaming. “Hi?” she tried, clearly still not quite sure of what she was seeing on her stoop.

It made Carol feel like a complete idiot suddenly. She was the one who'd said slow, and then not 8 hours later, she showed up like a crazy person on Helen's doorstep with no real reason. “Hi.” _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Do you...,” Helen really was caught off-guard but there was no hint of anger or annoyance on her face. She appeared completely clueless. “Want to come inside?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Thank god. Carol practically hopped through the doorway, relieved when she heard the door closing behind her. At least that was out of the way. This was way too awkward already. It certainly didn't help that she was just lingering around in Helen's hallway with no actual purpose. Yeah. With a grimace she realised that this was a stupid, crappy idea afterall. _Why, why, why did you do this to yourself, you idiot?_

Finally she felt warmth next to her and a soft hand on her arm. It was familiar and reassuring which made everything even more confusing. “Are you okay? Do want some... hot chocolate?” Helen raised her mug and her voice was oddly gentle, as if she expected things to go terribly wrong. “Come on. Sit down.”

It was eerily silent as Carol followed her to the familiar living room where the TV murmured quietly on some crime drama. It had been months since she'd last stepped foot in this house. Nothing had really changed. The faint smell of cinnamon, musk and cedar still hung in the air. The marble floors were still freezing even through her socks and the carpet like a big, warm cloud. She still had to take a quick step sideways to avoid the oddly placed table near the sofa. It was comforting in a way that she hadn't realised was even possible.

Helen placed her mug down on the coffee table with a heavy clunk and wandered back towards her kitchen. “Seriously. Sit, please. You're freaking me out,” she called over her shoulder and there was a clang of dishes as Helen prepared another mug of hot chocolate.

Shit. _This was a stupid move, Carol_ , she chided herself. It wasn't clear what she even had expected. To confront Helen about...? Not returning her text messages? They had literally just rekindled the very beginning of a relationship and she goes and does this? All because Beverly raised some very annoying albeit important, very plausible concerns. There was nothing to hold Carol's attention in the room since she'd practically memorized it months ago. Whatever TV show Helen was watching seemed insanely boring compared to the panicky drama that was currently running in her head.

It felt like four hours before Helen padded back into the room with that silly, tacky, truly awful duck-shaped mug in her hands. Carol had laughed about it forever one morning, telling Helen that it was obviously her new favourite mug because it was the complete opposite of something that she was expecting to find in such a fancy kitchen. Now, Carol tried to swallow the lump in her throat but wasn't sure if she succeeded. She tried not to let it show and dodged Helen's gaze when she took it. Maybe the mug choice was just coincidence. Then again, maybe it wasn't.

Instead of like the time before, Helen lowered herself into the armchair and cradled her own cup with both hands. There was a pang of disappointment in her feeling so far away. _Slow_ , she reminded herself. That must be why Helen was so distant.

“So, what's going on?” Brown eyes studied her from over the rim of the plain white mug.

 _I missed you already_. Nope, not that. Well, yes that too. But not really the point. “Um... it's going to sound stupid now.”

“Try me.”

Gone was the giddiness of the afternoon. Helen's brow furrowed tightly. She was guarded now, her back straight and so quiet. Who wouldn't be if your ex-turned-not-ex suddenly showed up at your house in the middle of the night for no reason? Carol had a plan to test Beverly's theory that didn't involve anxiety attacks or dramatic displays of insanity. In fact, she had thought it was pretty clever before she actually saw Helen face to face.

“Why didn't you text me back?”

Helen seemed taken aback. “What are—”

“Anyway!” Carol couldn't help interrupting, forcing her voice into that saccharine lilt. She wasn't sure she even wanted the answer and it all seemed so dumb and immature now to be worrying about something like that. There was a nervous laugh that escaped and she clenched her shaking hand around her purse. “So, I...,” she trailed off and fished around in her bag before pulling out the blue t-shirt. “I brought back your t-shirt.”

Now, Helen was visibly uncomfortable, and a little irritated maybe? Her shoulders squared and a frown replaced what what had been bemusement. She put down the mug with a clack, and stared hard at Carol. Without meeting the glare she knew was burning holes in her, Carol placed the James Perse shirt on the table and pushed it towards the older woman. For a moment there was dead silence. This was all part of what Carol had previously considered a brilliant plan.

“I don't...” Helen didn't bother to even finish the sentence. She seemed to just give up, snatching the shirt into a fist with a loud huff. “Thank you.” Her sarcasm was not subtle nor kind.

Without saying anything else, she stood up and left the room. This was the part where things were about to go very bad. Maybe there was some leftover souvenir of their past romance that was about to be hurled at her with an irate ex-lover behind it. Carol slowly sipped on the hot beverage while contemplating all the options she had to get out of this situation and fast. The easiest was to just run now but for some reason, she really wanted to prove Beverly wrong. And honestly? For once, she wanted to be right about someone, wanted someone to actually fight for her and mean it.

There was a hasty thudding as Helen's footsteps came down the stairs in the other room.

Suddenly, there was a dark purple v-neck t-shirt thrown into her lap. Carol looked down, cocking her head to the side and fingering the hem. God, it smelled so much more like Helen's detergent and citrus body wash and that other distinct Helen-smell that she couldn't name than that blue one did in the end.

“There you go. You can keep it.” For a moment, Carol caught Helen's gaze, looking down at her with something strange in her eyes. “You can trade it in anytime for a fresh one.” A small smile passed over Helen's lips as she moved around and back into the armchair, pulling her legs up as she always did when she was feeling comfortable.

She couldn't help it. Burying her face—just for a second—in the fabric and inhaling deeply stirred something deep in Carol's chest. It felt so damn good. And yes, Beverly was _so_ damn wrong. Finally, fucking finally, it was her turn. The grin stretched widely across Carol's face as she met Helen's waiting stare. The duck mug, the t-shirt, the way Helen just watched her with such affection. Fuck fucking Beverly's negativity.

Helen took a long sip of her drink, and a smirk peeked out, an eyebrow raised. “So, are you staying the night?”

“Well,” Carol began with an easy shrug, making that face Helen knew so well. “I _am_ here already.”


	3. Episode 3 (Helen)

Holy fuck. Her bed was so much more comfortable than that guestroom's shitty rock hard mattress. Helen had almost forgotten how perfect it really was because, probably shockingly to almost anyone that knew her, she hadn't been lying or exaggerating when she'd told Carol that sleeping in her bed was too depressing. It was. It had been. It had been fucking awful. Even after Sofia changed the sheets, scrubbed the furniture, and vacuumed the hell out of the carpet, Carol still lingered in there. Constantly. Every goddamn night. Like some sort of apricoty, jasminey ghost.

However, at the moment, Carol was actually asleep next to her, complete with that little adorable, exhausted snore that had haunted Helen's dreams for the last 5 months. She burrowed down under the duvet, reaching out and curling around the warm body. Carol let out a sleepy hum of contentment as Helen tightened her hold. God, she felt so good. It wasn't just the bare skin against her own which, yes, had been also missing in the last few months, but it was the way Carol's presence specifically felt like it relaxed every muscle in her body. There was a sort of contentment that Helen wasn't sure she'd felt in her life. At least, she couldn't recall it. Fuck, she was in so deep.

Stirring in her arms, Carol groggily shifted slightly, reaching for Helen's hand and intertwined their fingers before sighing and falling back asleep. She couldn't help moving to place a soft kiss on Carol's shoulder. It was like some sort of insatiable, uncontrollable tic. Well, there definitely were worse habits.

Helen made a note to call her therapist first thing in the morning. The thing was... well, when she had mentioned wanting to talk to Carol before the depo, Laura had adamantly warned her against doing just that. She said to just take it as it was and go with the flow. (When had Helen Basch ever just gone with the flow? That wasn't even in her vocabulary.) But otherwise, she'd been learning a lot and trying to bring all Laura's advice into practice.

Her shrink would have a heart attack tomorrow. Not visibly of course, but Helen knew what had happened in the bathroom, and then even more what happened when Carol showed up out of fucking nowhere tonight, would cause some base-level anxiety in her therapist. What smart person wouldn't be stressed out hearing about it all?

But fuck her. She'd made the right decision to ambush Carol. She'd seen the one and only opportunity she'd _ever_ have to fix things and she grabbed at it like a cat with string. If that deposition started, that would be it. Carol would be dragged over every large metaphorical razor spike known to modern man. The network was ruthless, and those lawyers they'd hired even more so. It had all been the right decision. Granted, most of that conversation was reminiscent of many hours of therapy when she and Laura worked through the whole affair. She had taken her therapist's advice on how to apologise. (It's not that she didn't want to; it was just not something she was overly familiar with.)

Now Carol was back in her bed, sleeping soundly.

And Helen honestly couldn't imagine being happier.

So, yeah, she needed to call Laura ASAP because left to her own insane devices, she'd fuck the relationship up all over again with all the bullshit. It would be a difficult task. But that's why she paid the woman such an exorbitant amount of money twice a week.

Finally, Helen sighed, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. She ignored that cramping sort of feeling in her gut that kept nagging her that maybe this was all just a cruel tease of a dream.

 

 

Coming to, the morning light was peeking through the blinds and Helen tensed as something moved. For one confused, bleary moment, she'd forgotten where she was and who she was with. The pounding in her chest that had just spiked to heart attack levels came down slightly with the knowledge. Carol groaned beside her. It wasn't the most pleasing of sounds, as it was often the type of pained growl that accompanied the reluctant realization of a bad mistake, or a hangover and Helen internally braced herself for some sort of morning after panic attack from the blonde. Again.

It didn't come. Instead, Carol shot out of bed, ran naked to the bathroom, and slammed the door with a bang that shook the walls.

Oh. _That_. The heaving and violent retching began not long after.

For a minute, Helen just lay there thinking about how this was possibly the first time Carol was actually out of bed before her in all the time they'd been together. A small smirk crept out but she bit it down quickly as the awful sound of morning sickness came through the wooden door. Swinging her legs off the bed, she grabbed for a t-shirt and slipped her cold feet into the fluffy slippers her daughter had bought her for her birthday. Then she picked up a throw blanket and sweatshirt.

She shuffled towards the bathroom door and took the handle before pausing and hearing Laura's voice booming in her head, “Boundaries!” Right, taking things slow. Respecting other people's boundaries. Fuck. It killed her to have to listen to this so instead of just barging in as the old Helen would have done, so she knocked.

“Can I come in?” Her voice was gravelly with sleep still, and a little timid. The was a moment of silence from the interior as if Carol too had been caught off-guard.

“No. It's gross.”

“Please?” There was another word that wasn't that often found in her repertoire. “I've had two kids, remember?”

Another long pause. Maybe a little whimper but Helen patiently waited for Carol to make up her mind. This was how a healthy relationship was supposed to go. Respect. Even if it was taking every ounce of willpower she had to just stand there, doing fuck all.

“Okay.”

She pushed the door open slowly, peeking in and saw Carol hunched over the toilet, shivering.

“Arms up,” she commanded and Carol acquiesced with no complaint and Helen pulled the sweatshirt over her head. She wrapped the blanket around her bare legs, and Carol sighed, shaking her head with a grimace.

“This fucking sucks.”

Helen wandered over to the sink and poured her a glass of water, bringing it over and placing it on the floor beside the toilet. She knelt down just as Carol let out another forceful dry heave and knew she couldn't do much more than just rub slow circles gently on the younger woman's back. Carol leaned into the touch, resting her head against Helen shoulder as if she was completely drained of energy already.

“Thank you,” she whispered right before launching herself over the bowl again.

Helen winced in empathy. She knew this well. “Not a problem. It's my job.” She passed Carol the glass of water and the blonde took a long gulp, before spitting it back out into the toilet.

“Not your job, but still, thanks.”

“It sort of is.” Yes, Helen. _Let's argue about this right now at 7 in the morning while Carol's puking her guts out in a cold bathroom_. She had a better idea. “I've got something to help.” Quickly, she darted from the bathroom and ruffled in her bedside table for something she knew had to be there. A few moments later, she carried her prize back to Carol triumphantly and snatched a lighter from the shelf near her bath candles.

Carol's eyes went wide, eyes sparkling in that peculiar way. Like a kid in a candy shop. “No, I can't...” It didn't sound convincing and Helen knew it wouldn't take much to change her mind.

“Sure, you can.” Helen sparked the joint, pulling on it deeply. “I did. With both my kids. They're fine.”

“Really?” It was as if she'd just heard the most beautiful poem in the world.

“What do the doctor's call it? Hyperemesis... something? Whatever.” She shrugged with the memory and gently blew on the burning tip before holding it out for Carol, who looked like she was actually about to cry. “Just don't go crazy.”

Yeah, there were definite tears forming in Carol's eyes as she gingerly plucked the joint from Helen's fingers. She inhaled deeply before even putting the weed to her lips, her eyes slipping shut with the aroma. “I think,” she began before losing the will to resist temptation. She drew in a huge hit, sputtering a little with the volume of smoke. “Mmm, I think I love you.”

Helen was pretty sure the woman humming and grinning contentedly now on her bathroom floor was talking to the dope dangling from her hand. Still, she'd take whatever she could get.

 


	4. Episode 4 (Beverly)

“So, have you told her?”

“Mmm?”

“Have you told Helen about—”

“Oh, _that_. Um, no?”

Beverly was going to throw her mobile phone against the wall in a second. Sometimes she really had to wonder how much of the pile of shit Carol seemed to be pushing through on a near-daily basis was her own doing. This whole Merc baby thing seemed like it could be a dealbreaker of sorts. Or a Crazy-Helen-maker, at any rate.

She sighed, pushing a hand through her short so-called lesbian haircut. (“ _I'm not kind. It's sexy_.” Ugh, she heard Helen's voice in her head at the most inopportune times.) “Don't you think it's about time? How has she not asked?”

There was a brief pause and then the forced gleeful sound as she brushed off the concern. “I dunno. She hasn't. But oh my god, did I tell you what happened the other...”

And that's when Beverly tuned out momentarily. This was like deja-vu. Let's see what it could possibly be about. Lately, she liked to play this game with herself when speaking with Carol about Helen. Just as Carol started, she'd stop listening quickly and then try to guess what Carol was going on about, and then tune back in just in time to catch the end and see if she'd guessed right.

Hmm, what were the last few stories about again? There was the text message and t-shirt debacle, the gushing over Helen taking care of her in the morning, the brand new “She came to my house instead!” experience, the age-old “Why didn't she call me back (again)?” freakout, the super cute lunch date and date night, the utterly thrilling recollection of them watching HGTV all afternoon at the weekend. It had only been a week and a half and her friend had well and truly fallen hard. Harder than before, even. But true to her word—surprisingly—Helen had been unbelievably restrained. No ankle bracelets, no new pet names, no 24-7 slumber sex parties, no keys, no hypothetical dogs or beach houses, not even any real talk about their future at all apparently.

Something wasn't right. Or else that therapist Helen was supposedly seeing was a miracle worker who would be recognised one day as the patron saint of neurotic bisexuals and lesbian executives everywhere.

And really, it didn't hurt her and Sean's new show either. Helen was, to put it lightly, a pleasure to work with again: Accommodating, interested, and passionate. Not that she ever really lacked the latter but it was directed to all the right places at the moment instead towards her haircut, their show, and resenting Carol. So there wasn't really a lot of complaining that felt very fair about this new arrangement.

Anyway, it was about time to start listening to her friend again so a conclusion had to be made. She was going to guess that it was about a banal conversation and ended with some sort of awkward sex story. Well, it would be awkward for her to listen to, anyway.

“So, I said to her...”

Oh, it was still going on. It really was like a relaxing sort of white noise. “Mm hmm.”

“...and then we started talking about the lawsuit.”

And there it was! Jackpot. Okay, so she had guessed incorrectly but this sounded so much juicier. “I'm all ears.”

“Okay, so you know how she told you to tell me that I was making a big mistake? There's actually something more to it.”

Maybe this wasn't quite as exciting as she had hoped. “You don't say.”

“Like, so you'd think it was about not getting a reputation as a litigious person, right? That's basically career suicide in this city. It's like that time I was telling Andy...”

It was amazing how easily Beverly could tune out almost immediately. She'd heard the Andy story not once, not twice, but four times already. In the last 2 months. And how it didn't matter what Carol had said to him then because she was going back to “buttfuck Michigan” anyway so who cared about a career anymore.

“...I didn't really care, as you know since it's not like I was sticking around here. But, and this—well, maybe you figured it out but I didn't. It wasn't all about just my career—not that I even understood why Helen would be concerned about that. I figured it was just an excuse so she didn't have that on her record and Elliot Salad on her case about costing the network hundreds of thousands of dollars. Which, let's be real here, that's the big thing. He's a pain in the ass when money is involved. Sexual harassment, eh, not such a big deal to him. Shocker—”

She couldn't help herself. “Is this sordid tale going anywhere?” None of what Carol was saying was new information but she sounded so excited that it hurt just a little to interrupt her storytelling.

There was a loud, irritated sigh on the other end of the phone line. “Of course! Helen said that first she told you cos she thought you'd talk some sense into me—not because of the money or Elliot Salad or the network or whatever. And then when that didn't work, that's why she followed us into the bathroom.”

“What was?”

“Oh, well, obviously she still loved me. Whatever you said to her gave her hope, she said.” Carol's voice sounded so bloody happy with the idea that Beverly actually felt a slight pang of jealousy. It had been years since she'd experienced that same rush of pure elation at the simple idea of Sean being in love. “But also,” she continued, “Or maybe part of that is that she really didn't want me to go through the deposition, let alone arbitration.”

 _Well duh_ , as Americans would say. Beverly wished that she could see Carol at this point. It would be heart-warming to the bottom of her cold, cold heart.

“She said the lawyers were prepared to _completely_ destroy me. Which makes sense, you know? And she didn't want that to happen to me. She was worried about _me_ , not my career... or hers for that matter.”

“And you believe her?” It wasn't like Beverly didn't believe Helen's claim. Clearly the woman cared for Carol, but it still all seemed rather opportunistic. She just couldn't shake that. It was all too neat and tidy, and come on, this was the same woman who knew how to take every advantage of the power she had over others. A certain showrunner named Tim sprung to mind.

“I'm going to hang up if you keep saying things like that.” The threat had some thick emotion behind it and Beverly felt slightly bad about her consistent questioning of Helen's ulterior motives. “I'm happy. Can't you just be happy _for me_?”

Maybe it was the truth. Maybe. Beverly certainly couldn't imagine wanting to put Sean through such an ordeal if she loved him either. And since Helen appeared to be just as taken with Carol, perhaps the claim was real.

“Yes, I can. I am.” She thought about leaving it at that but there was a niggling, awful little place that stunk of cynicism and realism. “But—”

“But you're _you_.” At least her tone was lighter now and Beverly felt her shoulders relax just a bit. It was a strange position really. The first time around, she'd been the one saying anything she could to help Carol navigate an actual grown-up relationship and mitigate any problems. Now she seemed intent on seeing only the worst case scenario and putting those ideas into her head too. Which, when she really thought about it and how bright Carol was again, wasn't particularly fair. If everything was to be believed, it was legitimately different this time with Helen, thanks to some therapy and time apart and experience. Maybe that's all those two had ever needed to get on the same page. (Sounded painfully familiar really.)

Then she thought about Merc just a few months ago. Carol had seemed similarly happy, superficially anyway. She'd at least convinced herself of happiness. There was a tiny difference however: The unforced glow that existed now on her face every time Helen was mentioned had been non-existent with Merc. He had felt forced, as if he was a placeholder, a lowly seat-filler for someone else more important. Desperation and self-delusion did look different on Carol, in retrospect. She'd been in love with someone else the entire time and nobody even knew it.

“I am me, that's right. But I'm also happy for you, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Even if it's Helen?” Carol was well aware of Beverly's opinion on rehashing any of her failed romantic escapades. It had been no secret that she wasn't a fan, especially of girlfriends that force her to strip naked in public parks. Or married bosses that are just consistently calling back to the prehistoric era of pond scum. Or really any of the innumerable disasters in man-form that hunted Carol on a regular basis.

Beverly suspected this was something like a trap. “Yes. Well, she is the least fuckwit-ish of all your bosses.”

There was an aggravated huff. “She's not my boss!”

Beverly couldn't help the glib scoff from escaping. “ _That's_ the part of the sentence you object to?”

“Well, she's not.”

“Ah, right. I'm very sorry. Your sexual partner who just happened to be in charge of you at work but no longer is. Like many, if not all, of your other sexual partners.”

“Oh, _stop it_.” Carol let out a soft hum, seemingly lost in her own world for a minute. “I wouldn't mind if she was my boss again, now that you mention it.”

It was rather unfortunate that Carol couldn't see Beverly rolling her eyes, practically to the back of her skull.


	5. Episode 5 (Carol)

The building hadn't changed. But why would it? It was an office building. Just like any other office building anywhere else in the world, probably. They probably didn't change very much most of the time. Except maybe in Asia. They seemed to have a lot of cool new buildings all the time. Maybe the potted plants were new? Carol looked around, shifted her weight, and tugged on her dress a little. Yeah, the plants were new. Maybe. They looked bigger anyway. It was still fucking freezing in the lobby as she approached the blonde girl at the desk. Shit, what was her name? She'd seen her almost everyday for over 7 years and she couldn't remember her damn name. Just the bouncy ponytail.

In all honesty, it's not like she often had a reason to chat since, like, she worked there and everyone knew that. This time was obviously different. So different in fact that Carol could feel the trembling in her limbs and the nausea rising into her throat.

“Hi.” She hadn't even got through her full greeting before the perky blonde receptionist's face lit up.

“Oh my god! Hi, Miss Rance! So good to see you back.”

Everything suddenly felt terribly familiar as she forced out that look that was plastered on her face so often during her days here. “Thank you.” It came out between gritted teeth shaped in a smile. “I'm, um, here to see Helen. Um, Basch. Helen Basch.” She sounded like a fucking intern on her first day.

“I'll let her know you're here. Take a seat, please.”

Holy shit, this was awkward. Carol wandered aimlessly over to the uncomfortable, weird designer armchairs near one of the newly gigantic potted palms. Why couldn't Helen have just met her for lunch somewhere else? She'd called earlier and asked if Carol could come in for a chat—which sounded ridiculously ominous of course—but she'd made sure to insist that it wasn't. She softened the request with the promise of a fancy and expensive lunch at the new fusion bistro on 7th that was the top-blogged spot It last week.

The lovely, sweet receptionist called over to her, beaming. “Miss Basch is ready. Head on up, Miss Rance.”

All Carol could do was offer a small nod and grimace that she hoped didn't come off as unfriendly. Her butt did not move from the seat. Her fingers shook as she tapped in Helen's cell number. Nope, she couldn't do this. She couldn't walk back into that office with all the gossip and staring and whispers and god knows what else. It was hard enough walking out, but walking back in? Hell. Like some 8th circle shit.

“Hey, babe.” Carol's shoulders immediately slumped as just the sound of Helen's voice calmed her nerves, a bit anyway. She slouched down into the seat cushions.

“I can't,” she whispered fiercely into the phone.

“Can't what? Take the elevator?” Fucking Helen. “It's the 28th floor then take a right.” There was some definite smarm behind those words. Was she actually enjoying this?

Where was wonderful, self-assured, no-nonsense, non-panic-attacky Beverly when she was really needed? “What? Are you seri—it's not _that_.”

She could hear the snap of heels on granite and some muffled dinging from the other end. “Okay, well, are you all right?” There was the sound of more voices until the chiming in her ear matched up with something off to her left. Helen's footsteps were unmistakable and Carol suddenly felt so much more composed and she sat up straighter, smoothing her dress again with her free hand, flicking off her phone with the other.

She'd barely stood up and Helen was already by her side, a warm, reassuring hand holding her elbow. Her shoulders were squared belying some sort of authority but her brown eyes were soft and worried and meant only for Carol.

“I am freaking out,” Carol whispered adamantly, her eyes wide and anxious. “I can't go up there!”

The older woman slid her hand around to the small of Carol's back and led her over to a quiet corner away from the bustle of people coming and going. Nobody was paying them any attention thank god. Helen moved closer, so much that Carol could smell her Clive Christian and her face cream together. All it did was bring back stupid, fuzzy feelings from the morning as Helen was getting ready for work: the smell of the Costa Rican blend brewing in the carafe, the softness of Helen's lips on her own as some of that face cream rubbed off on her nose, the fabric softener from her bathroom towels.

“Sure you can.” God, her voice was so soothing, so resolute. It'd be so great if teleportation was a thing. She could just bypass all the gossip goblins and curious stares. This— _this_ with Helen was why she was here. Nothing else. As if reading her mind, Helen laughed, “Fuck 'em.”

As if it was really that easy.

“Look, it doesn't matter.” Off Carol's incredulous face, she continued. “Who cares? Some people will wonder. Some will be excited. In fact, I think I can name one in particular that will be all over you like a dog with a bone.”

_Andy._

“But I'm with you, right? You've gotta do it sometime.”

That didn't exactly seem true. She winced. “Do I though?”

“Yes! Come on. You used to run this place.”

Helen clearly was growing a bit impatient although her voice never changed timbre. Quite the exercise in restraint for someone like her who was used to getting her own way, fast and hard. The idea made Carol a little bit giddy. Helen was trying so hard to kick all her terrible habits and change for the better and that caused a sort of pride and satisfaction to bubble through Carol's thoughts; this woman was willing to alter her very being just to have Carol in her life again. And quite frankly, it didn't seem like Helen was adverse to that in the least. No quietly boiling resentment, no insecurity, no upfront anger. None of that poisonous stuff that plagued their last try at this.

Maybe it was time she tried to change a bit as well. “Okay. Fine. Let's go.” She sucked in a deep breath and pushed out a smile. This was familiar. She could do this. It was hardly the most awkward thing that had happened to her at this office and probably wouldn't be the last.

“One last thing.”

 _Uh oh. Shit_. Suddenly, the calm demeanour she'd finally wrangled into place began to slip again. Nothing good ever came after “one last thing” from Helen. It was like her trademark equivalent of “Everything's going well but now I have something terrible to say.” _Shit shit_.

Helen moved in, subtly running her hands lightly over the younger woman's waist, out of view of any nosy passers-by. Not that anyone was looking, or cared in the least. Carol chewed down on her bottom lip, nibbling a bit harder than necessary. It was all she could do to stop herself from just closing her eyes and curling into what she knew would be an indulgent embrace.

“It's your call completely: do you want to, hmm,” Helen didn't seem like she knew exactly what to say. “Like, keep this a secret? Are you comfortable with people knowing about us? Or... are you...would you rather...”

 _Holy shit_. Now this was not expected. It made Carol's eyes well up a little with the amount of concern given to her well-being. Nobody ever, _ever_ had bothered to ask like this. Not even Helen the first time around. It had just been assumed that nobody talked about any affair and nobody cared if it was known either. Of course, as soon as somebody (usually Andy or that Liv from Reality Dev) knew something, everybody else in the office did as well. Helen may actually be going for some sort of Girlfriend of the Year award.

When asked so clearly (and kindly), it felt strange to want to keep anything about this a secret. Quite unexpectedly, she wanted everyone to know what a wonderful woman she was with. She wanted them to be happy for her and jealous and just know that yeah, things had been shit but everything was all good now because she finally, after so fucking long, had someone that loved the shit out of her (and had the bonus of not being her boss). But it was L.A. and it was a professional industry and there was no doubt everyone knew about sexual harassment lawsuit and, wow. Walking in with the person she'd just tried to sue would be beyond weird.

“I don't want to be a secret,” Carol began, trying not to let too much of a smile out. She was so sick and tired of being everyone's dirty office secret. “But I don't want to, like, make out in the elevator either.” She shrugged. “Yet.”

“That's fair,” Helen grinned. “Motion sickness is a bitch. We can totally wait until we step off the elevator.”

Carol pushed around the brunette, trying to repress her smile. “Enough!” Her nerves were almost forgotten as Helen fell into step beside her on her march towards the elevator. They weren't quite touching but she could still feel her presence and it was a comfort. Other executives piled into the elevator with them, preventing any potential making out anyway and as the lights flicked higher and higher, Carol found her body feeling better rather than worse. And she could still distinctly smell Helen's perfume. She inhaled deeper.

 


	6. Episode 6 (Helen)

Andy Button must have some disgusting sixth sense for juicy potential office drama. He had met them almost immediately after the elevator doors opened. Of course, they were all accustomed to each others' false smiles and fake laughs but upon seeing Carol, his face legitimately brightened in a way that was rarely seen. It made Helen feel even better about the reason she wanted Carol to come in today. There were no shortages of side-eyed curious glances and outright staring as they walked down the corridor side by side. Something about the attention and the feeling of the suddenly confident blonde in step next to her caused a pleasant, warm glow to sweep through her body. It was like old times, only better.

Yeah, pretty much everyone probably knew about the lawsuit. It's not like she told anyone herself but these things had a creepy way of sneaking around offices with nothing better to do than spread gossip about the mean boss and revenge for her failed lesbian affairs. It was the stuff of the very sitcoms they produced.

As of right now, nobody knew about the extent of her relationship with Carol and for the time being, that's exactly how she'd rather it be kept as well. She was tired of sharing every private moment with the entire office and facing down those knowing glances at every meeting. It had been maddening enough with Beverly around every so often and all that ugly, awkward history lingering between the three of them.

Helen shut the door behind them after all the pleasantries and gushing, and the biggest bear hug she'd ever seen Andy give anyone. He may not have been the brightest or best head of casting she'd worked with but her brought the same sort of energy as a small, stupid but mostly well-behaved puppy. Carol was adequately evasive about her reasons for showing up, which were, as it turned out, not well known to even her so it didn't take much to lie.

Of course, Helen had an ulterior motive. She always had something extra, sometimes shady, sometimes less shady. Hopefully this one would be a good surprise, rather than the kind she normally foisted onto unsuspecting people. The kind she tended to give Carol the last time. Laura had told her that slow was best and not to rush anything but this really couldn't wait, for Carol's sake as well as everyone else's. Professionally, of course.

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as soon as they were alone and the feeling of being bogged down by memories was all too present. She tried to remember the last time the two of them were in here together. It was the afternoon after they ran into Castor Sotto at the cafe and the giant shit-tip that was. Carol had been weird and avoidant, as she had been a lot of that week and Helen recalled that about the only good point of the whole day had been it being over, and Carol sleeping next to her. Not talking, not freaking out, just sleeping.

She didn't want that memory anymore. She hated having any of those memories. Sauntering over to her desk as calmly as she could, she propped herself up to sit on the edge and waited for Carol to stop looking around like a scared kitten that's just been faced with the real world. It took a few minutes. Finally, the blonde sighed, obviously seeing no difference between this office and the one she'd walked out of all those months ago. Her lips quirked into an apologetic smirk, as if she knew she was being ridiculous.

“You okay?” It seemed like she was asking that question every five minutes now. Laura said that if ever she was concerned or confused, to make that known. Some people needed to hear that their feelings were being considered before voicing any worries and Carol clearly was one of those types of people.

She shrugged a little, wandering closer to Helen. “Yeah. It's just a little...”

“Weird?”

A nervous chuckle bubbled out. “Yeah. That too.”

“Come here,” she intoned gently, taking hold of both Carol's hands as she drew closer. “Breathe. You're fine. _We're_ fine.”

“I know, I know,” Carol tried to laugh off the anxiety but found it strangely sticky. Pulling her hands out of Helen's hold, they found their way to the loose brown hair, idly drifting through the strands. Helen was pretty fucking sure she'd died and gone to heaven. Her own hands found Carol's hips and rested patiently. Yeah, if she wasn't dead, real life was doing a damn good impression. For a long moment, she just savoured the attention from Carol. Whatever it took to get the younger woman to calm her nerves, Helen would do. But finally, she straightened up, taking Carol in her arms instead, finishing off with a tender kiss that probably should have just stopped there.

But Carol's small hands were still up in her hair which only made it too easy to draw Helen in harder, grabbing at her almost ferally. They'd been here plenty of times, usually right before fucking on this exact desk. Or sofa. There was no way in hell to resist this... but she knew at least for the sake of at least their dignity, she'd have to. Nothing imaginable could be worse than Elliot Salad walking in to see Carol, the woman who had just tried to take the network for millions, sprawled out on the pristine white sofa with Helen's very professional, network prexy head between her legs, eating her out as if her very life depended on it. (Because, really, it sort of felt like a life or death thing at this point in time.) And that was definitely where this was going to go unless it stopped really fucking soon.

Helen pulled back, trying to still her hands but failing as Carol took the advantage, moving her lips down to Helen's neck where her pulse was furiously pumping. Pregnant women were the horniest damn people on the planet. She remembered that well enough, with some major resentment too. Fucking stupid Ed.

Yep, that did it. Like a deluge of frigid water, just the mere thought of her bitchy, gigantic sack of shit ex-husband—who incidentally had repeatedly cheated on her with the woman that currently was most definitely leaving a hickey on her neck—was enough to tamper any uncontrollable lust. For the time being, anyway.

Squirming reluctantly out of Carol's grip, she attempted to put a little bit of space between them, much to the other woman's obvious confusion. “There's something I need to tell you.”

Wow. The complete range of emotions that flooded Carol's now-ashen face was almost unbelievable.

“It's not a bad thing.”

Even she could admit it sure seemed like one. Why else would she have called a halt to an otherwise thoroughly satisfying foreplay session?

“There's a reason I wanted you to come in here today and it's not just for the obvious benefits.” She tried to lighten the mood but judging by Carol's hesitant face, it made no difference. “Do you... I mean, are you interested—Okay. Are you bored?” There had to be a better way to ask than this but her total fear of spooking Carol made the direct approach impractical.

There was silence. Just more puzzled and panicked stares.

“Now that you're here, do you miss it?” There. That should be less obtuse. “Like, do you miss working _here_?”

The blonde narrowed her blue eyes, trying to figure out the motivation behind the very pointed and leading questions. “Here here?”

“Yes.”

“For you?”

Helen cocked her head to the side, squinting. “Hmm, _with_ me.” She wanted to ask Carol when she had _ever_ behaved like her boss. Sure, she had the final say on things, and a whole bunch of perks that the Director of Programming lacked but on a functional, everyday level they had really acted more like partners most of the time. Or so she had thought.

“Umm...”

 _Oh, fuck._ Maybe this had been a shitty idea after all. Maybe she'd completely misread everything. And fucking Elliot was going to show up any minute. _Shit._

“Well, yeah. It's kinda hard with all the...” She waved her hands around. “Bad memories.”

Helen could only bite her lip and look at the carpet. Of course there would be an issue. Carol hadn't been suing to actually get her job back; she'd wanted settlement money and get as far away from here as possible.

“What about the good ones?” It was times like this that Helen didn't feel much like her old self. This was post-shrink Helen Basch who was vulnerable and concerned and had that damned timidness in her voice. She really wanted to hate this new side of herself but she had to admit it felt good, and it was admittedly more genuine. It belied every truth in her: she wanted Carol back in every single way possible.

The question appeared to trigger something in Carol whose whole face seemed to soften in concern. She guessed this is what honest communication was like. Mind-boggling really.

“Um, not sure if you're aware but I don't have the best record mixing love with bosses.” Her voice was bordering on a pleasant if strained chirp.

Oh thank fucking god! A joke. Carol wasn't completely a lost cause yet.

“Love? Hell no. I'm talking about purely emotionless sex.”

A smile broke out across the younger woman's lips, her eyes crinkling and everything. “Oh, I can do that.” Her gaze darted down and a small, apologetic cringe crept over her features, and she attempted to stifle a laugh. “You might...” She gestured hastily to her own neck.

Helen self-consciously slapped a hand to the area of her neck that Carol was indicating. “What?”

“Here.” Carol moved in and used a thumb to wipe leftover lipstick from Helen's neck and straightened her blouse collar slightly, attempting to cover up the dark red bruise forming on the delicate skin. Yeah, this was a totally unemotional, indifferent thing they had. They were going to be completely shit at playing that stupid game. “Let me guess,” Carol said, still casually toying with Helen's blouse. “Elliot Salad's going to show up any minute.” Her face was surprisingly calm and her smile warm. Helen could literally feel the fondness for this incredible woman ballooning up instead her chest. It wouldn't be the first time in last week that she felt amazingly lucky for managing to get a second chance.

“How'd you know?” It was a hypothetical question of course. Carol was one of the most intelligent people she'd ever met, in most areas of life anyway.

“Oh, come on. You're so transparent.” She chuckled, mimicking Helen. “Do you miss work, do you miss working here, blah blah, yeah okay!”

Her laugh was contagious and Helen pulled her in, planting a solid kiss on the lips that caught Carol a little bit off guard. “So, you do want your job back or not?”


	7. Episode 7 (Carol)

The speakerphone chimed loudly and Patti's voice came through. “Helen, Elliot Salad is on his way up.”

The brunette strode purposefully across the room and opened the door, calling out to her receptionist. “Just send him in when he gets here. Thanks, Patti.”

There was a slight air of nerves prickling through the air and Carol wasn't sure if it was coming from her or, oddly enough, Helen. Instead of waiting to be told what to do (as per normal), she wandered over the sofa that had seen so many wannabe producers and writers grace its bright white cushions and took a seat. After all, this time she was the one being interviewed, probably. Her fingers twisted into themselves, twitching at random and she clenched her fists in her lap to hide them.

A puff of breeze passed over her as Helen sat down, not in her usual armchair opposite, but next to her. Close. Really close. Like, so close that Carol could easily just scooch a teeny bit and rest her head on Helen's shoulder. And really, she wasn't sure whose benefit that was for because it actually felt like Helen needed it more.

Elliot Salad had no problems just striding into any room, taking it over like it was his and triggering any insecure person to quake in his shadow. That's probably why he'd been so intent on Helen taking over for Castor. She didn't tremble in his presence. She was sturdy and self-assured and sane. Well, almost. More than Castor. Carol? Well, okay, she knew she could be a blabbering, nervous mess sometimes, even if she knew her shit. But this time around, Helen wasn't quite herself and it put Carol on edge as well.

And there he was. Elliot walked in, no knocking, and stared around for a moment before settling himself naturally in the chair Helen normally occupied in these scenarios. Her pulse quickening remembering the last time she'd seen Elliot was that awful doughnut-related scare outside Vincente when he'd been lunching with Helen. That day was the worst.

Oh god. There was, yep, there was some vomit in her throat. It threatened to bubble up further with the way Elliot was glaring at Helen. She'd never seen him quite so irritated with her (with Merc, for sure. Helen? Never). Without even a smile of greeting, he jumped right in.

Waving an irritated finger at Carol, he grimaced. “You told me this issue was finished and now I get a call to come in on a Friday morning when I am supposed to be at Cypress Point with Dauman and Hastings.”

Carol knew that if there was anything that pissed Helen off more than incompetent underlings or Merc Lapidus, it was when people like Elliot reinforced how much of a boy's club the industry still was. Plus, she hated—like really fucking hated—golf. She winced and desperately tried not to look at Helen's no doubt clouded face.

“It's important, Elliot.” Oh shit. That was Helen's _I don't have time for this bullshit_ voice. “More important than golf, anyway.” _No_. No, no she did not say that. Carol shifted, trying to adjust her dress as some sort of distraction.

“Great. I'm all ears.” He certainly didn't sound like he was. He sounded like he was going to snap at any moment. Beside her, Helen stiffened. It was only a tiny movement, but she could feel the impatience and irritation pouring from her. Nothing about this meeting was going to be easy if Helen was already on the defensive. This was specifically why there were times when Carol was grateful Elliot had chosen Helen over her because she wasn't entirely sure that she would have been able to go head to head with him in this way. Okay, maybe if given the chance she could have. But not like Helen. Not as brazenly. It was like she didn't give a single fuck in the world.

“I'm going to offer Carol her job back.”

Elliot glanced between the two women, obviously trying to figure out what was happening. “You want to work at the network again?” It was the first time Elliot had fully acknowledged her presence at this meeting. Off his look, Carol wanted to sink back into the cushions and hide there forever. But she didn't. Her spine remained straight and her gaze direct.

“Yes?” Her thumb picked incessantly her cuticles. That was her tell.

“Are you asking me?” He tried again.

She cocked her head to the side, squishing a close-lipped smile out, not liking the way begging felt. “No, no. I'd very much like to work again.”

His eyebrow cocked and he pursed his lips, considering her words. “You know that you just tried to sue us for millions.”

“Yes.” _Deep breaths, Carol._

“I don't understand. Hasn't her position been filled?” He turned back to Helen after squinting at Carol some more. “It's been months.”

“Yes and no,” Helen began, folding her hands on her lap. Her voice was so even and calm it was disconcerting. “Other people have picked up some of her responsibilities but nobody has been hired permanently. Actually, I have a new proposal.”

Carol was in the dark. Her stomach did an uncomfortable sort of flip flop and she pre-emptively swallowed. It would have been nice to have some sort of heads up, not only about this meeting but the entire purpose of it as well. Clearly Helen had a plan that she'd told absolutely nobody about. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. Yeah, she should have had that joint before showing up. Would Elliot still hire someone who puked all over the network president's office? Doubtful.

Elliot leaned back in the chair, regarding the older woman with some mixture of curiosity and boredom, seemingly prepared to say no to whatever she came out with. Carol could not take her eyes off of him.

“Co-president.”

Carol sucked in a noisy breath and gripped her hands around the loose fabric of her dress until her knuckles went white at the idea. Nope, she couldn't look at Elliot now. Or Helen. Instead she pretended the polish on her fingernails was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen but that could only last so long in the extended silence before she had to face him again.

Elliot's lips curled against his teeth, jaw clenching momentarily. “This is a joke, right?”

“Very much not a joke, Elliot.” God, her voice was unbearably cool and Carol swallowed hard, feeling the tingle in her abdomen at how hot it was. Her damn hormones were out of control. Here they were potentially talking about her being a network president and all she could currently concentrate on was the way Helen's voice sent waves of lust from her head to her toes, but mostly to that place in-between.

Leaning forward in the seat, he spread his hands wide. “So you are telling me you want Carol here to be a co-president,” The word came out like it was dirty. “Of a network that not 2 weeks ago she was trying to take down because of... you?”

There was the faintest scent of Helen's body wash as the woman beside her shook her head in confusion. That voice again. It came out as if she was totally unconcerned. “Problem?”

“I'd say.” He tented his fingers, studying Helen with suspicion. There was something whirling in his head that made his mouth twist up as if there was something sour in there. Helen on the other hand appeared cool as a cucumber. “This is a board decision, not yours. Not to mention where you expect we're going to come up with double the paycheck you currently receive.”

“Cut it then.” Helen's suggestion came out so quickly, and so certain. It was clear she'd been expecting that response and Carol tried not to choke on her own saliva at the comment, managing only a brief sputter. Helen was willing to take a pay cut for... what the hell was happening? Her own confusion was mirrored on Elliot's face as well. He didn't seem to know how to take the idea. Normally, his silence did not bode well so she continued. “Look, that's my suggestion. She's coming back. Take it or leave it.”

He sat back, his gaze slowly looking back and forth between the women. “And if I leave it?”

“I walk.”

What the ever-loving fuck was Helen playing at? At first it was this insane co-president idea that Carol knew (and Helen must know) the board would absolutely never, ever agree to. Now she was literally threatening to leave if Elliot didn't play along? To something that had no chance in hell of being within this sphere of reality? Nevermind the fact that Carol wasn't positive Helen was even in a position that it was a threat. There had to be a line up of top-tier executives who would jump at the chance to take her job here. Including Carol herself, not that Elliot seemed keen on ever rehiring her.

“Like hell you will.” The previously measured tone of his voice was definitely taking on an edge of frustration, but there was that smirk. He loved when people like her challenged him... to a certain degree.

She could feel Helen idly shrug and she knew without even looking the contrived smile that would be present. More than anything, she wanted to grab the woman, yank her out of Elliot's range and ask what the hell was happening right now because her pulse was close to stroke level and her mind was bordering on implosion. Why couldn't these two just stop the power games already?

Eventually, Helen relaxed, letting out a long sigh. “Look, how about this then... For the time being, we make this co-president thing work, in theory. Then when Carol has her baby and is on leave, I'll take the reigns. Then when she's done, I'll step down and she can take over. Win-win for everyone.”

 _Except you_ , Carol thought. Seriously, what the hell was she playing at? This felt a lot like before when she was left in the dark 99% of the time. Heck, it felt a lot like when Castor was in control of the network. Her jaw ached with the serious level of stress she was experiencing, and the foreboding yet familiar feeling in her gut.

“What do you mean _baby_?” He looked Carol over with something approaching disdain and she felt her stomach flop uncomfortably even harder. “We're supposed to hire someone who's about to pop out a kid?”

His eyes were not kind, not even patient, and Carol winced an affirmative nod, desperately hoping to avoid direct confrontation. "Well, not for a few months at least!”

“Perfect. Great. You two are really something, you know that?” If possible, his glare darkened even more. “Who's the father? What fucking cesspool am I dealing with here?”

Now, that question was far beyond his purview as chairman and really none of his business, just as a person. Of course, if he knew the father happened to be the idiotic executive producer of his top-rated and highest-grossing reality program, it may actually be his business after all, literally. What a fucking mess.

“I am.” Helen's voice broke through the thick smog of unstated truths, as calm as could be. Something about the way Helen just jumped in and took over caused goosebumps to prickle along her arms. For the first time since she'd told the older woman about her pregnancy, Carol believed that she had figured out who the biological father was. If it had been anyone else, her statement may have seemed like a joke but she was dead serious, without even the hint of a smile as she stared directly at Elliot, sitting back and putting an arm out along the back of the sofa. Okay, maybe those hives were back and Carol scratched absently at the nape of her neck.

Obviously, Elliot didn't think of it as a joke either. It was very possible that she'd never seen him twitching and grimacing like this before. Not even when Castor went into full batshit meltdown mode. (The fact she kept being reminded of Castor at a time like this certainly wasn't a good sign.) She had often wondered if Elliot he was capable and now she knew that there was a visible limit to his patience.

“Jesus fuck,” he scowled and pointed first at Carol, then at Helen who absently touched her neck, covering up where a nice bruise was forming. He sounded way too like her high school principal and she squirmed irritably in her seat as a response. “You two again. Are you kidding? Neither of you learned your lesson last time?”

Carol shrugged, idly thinking about the minutes before Elliot arrived. “Mehhh.”

She wasn't sure she'd ever really learn at this point if it hadn't happened already and if Beverly hadn't been able to get through to her. But in all honesty, this time legitimately seemed different and not just in that way where she convinced herself that everything was better when it wasn't. It _felt_ better, in her bones. When she looked at Helen her whole body felt lighter and when Helen touched her, she could feel her skin tingle and her muscles just soften and her whole heart felt calm. There was a safety in her presence. There was the slowburn of budding happiness again. And hope. When Helen kissed her, she didn't need to pretend that she was feeling something that wasn't there. Convincing herself just simply didn't happen; there was no need. She'd known it was going to be that way back when she'd cut off Helen's apologies and pleas with a kiss. That kiss, as short and tame as it was, told her everything that she had needed to know about herself and what she needed. It felt like that was where she was meant to be, even after all the shit and pain and misery.

“Well, that's comforting,” Elliot intoned, shaking his head. The women merely stared back at him, unflinching. He ran a hand over his chin. “Look, Helen, I can't tell you how to manage your office so if you want to hire this one back in her old job, that's on you—and Legal because I'm not having all that harassment crap happen again. But as for the quite frankly bizarre proposition you've made, that has to go before the board and I can't even imagine what they're going to say.” He slapped his palms onto his thighs and the sharp, loud sound caused Carol to openly flinch. That was the signal. Both her and Helen stood almost immediately like trained seals.

Suddenly it was like any other meeting. They shook hands, exchanged tense smiles, banal pleasantries and fake laughs, and Helen led him to the door. The final click as she closed her office door again was the biggest rush of relief Carol had felt all day.

“Okay. What the hell was _that_?”


	8. Episode 8 (Beverly)

“She did what?!” Beverly almost choked on her water as she tripped over a pebble.

“I know right! It's like... I can't even!” Carol waved her hands about more than usual on their hike, almost flapping like a bird. “She said she couldn't tell me beforehand or else, I dunno. Something about Elliot suspecting a plot that we planned it all along. And now we haven't even really seen each other since. It's been _days_!”

“Really?” Something about that idea seemed like Carol was just falling backwards. This was the same behaviour as before. Helen was pushing too hard, Carol was running as fast as possible in the opposite direction. “You haven't spoken to her about it?”

She shrugged. “Mm, not really. Barely even texted her.” She hummed to herself as they rounded a corner. “She hasn't really asked either.”

Well, that was a positive at the very least. Helen was giving Carol space after dumping a huge life-change on her out of the blue. That shrink really must be doing something right because as well as slowing things down, Carol didn't seem to be experiencing her usual overwrought stress and hives which meant something was working better between them.. until now. It probably helped that there was no sneaking around to go on hikes or have lunch or do set visits. “That's good, right?”

“Of course!” Her voice was precariously close to that second octave. Her lying octave. And then the truth came. “I mean, I want to get back to work. I want it all to work. But, like, everyday? We'd see each other all day at work and all night at home. Don't you think that's a bit much? It feels like too much.”

Beverly had to laugh. Sometimes it was like when Sean was out of Carol's sight, she completely forgot he existed. “You do know, Sean and I do that everyday, yeah? We write together, we work together, we eat together, we sleep together and then do it all over again every day of the week.”

“Yeah, but, you're... You guys are, like... Oh, I don't know.” She took a swig of water, swishing in it her mouth for a bit before swallowing. “It was really great before, wasn't it?”

Beverly couldn't quite follow. Sometimes it was almost like she was actually talking about somebody other than herself (or Helen). This time, Beverly couldn't be certain. “What was?”

“Me. At the network. With Helen.” There was a sort of whimsy in her voice, as if she was trapped in some fluffy memory that had taken her hostage. Of course it hadn't been about anyone else.

“From what I saw, and heard about, you got on like a house on fire. Professionally, above all else. Sean certainly was taken.” It was as if Carol was searching for someone to give her an answer either way. That was precisely the problem. “Look, what makes you happy? That's all you need to worry about.” She hesitated to mention it again but somebody had to. “Plus, you're not going to be working for quite a while. The baby and all. So, it's not like you will really be in each other's space 24-7.”

There was a sparkle as the afternoon sunlight hit the blue of Carol's eyes. Her voice had more of that dreamy, breathy quality to it. “ _She_ makes me happy.” The bright smile was unmistakable, even in profile.

“There you go.”

“But what if—”

“No! Don't do that. You're going to have problems. We all do. Sometimes really big ones.” Really bloody awful ones involving fucking Morning Randolph and fucking Matt Leblanc, literally. “But just stop worrying about them before they even happen or you will definitely screw things up. Trust me.”

 _Since when did you become so positive, Beverly?_ She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that finally— _finally!—_ she and Sean were in a very good place working on a project that was just perfect for them with no fuckarounds and fuckwits. She'd become so accustomed to negativity in every single corner of her life since moving to LA that this new direction felt almost liberating. She guessed it must have rubbed off into her attitude towards her friend's life as well. It was probably going to go to complete shit before all was said and done but for the time being, it was as good as it could get.

The blonde nodded as she slowed her frenzied walking down to a more reasonable pace. “So, you and Sean...?”

“Happy. Very.”

“Really?”

“Of course really.” She could feel a very real smile spreading across her lips at the thought. Any moment cartoon birds would start singing her a cheery song.

“That's good.” She sighed and Beverly studied her friend for a moment. It was like she was processing something deeper but with Carol that was probably unlikely. She was thinking about herself.

“Yes, it is.” She kept an edge of hesitancy in her voice knowing that with Carol, the focus could switch at any moment.

“I want to call Helen.” And there it was. _Two seconds of my life and then back we go_. “All this talk about you and Sean is making me miss her.”

Deep down there was probably a part of her like a spleen or a kidney that was rolling its imaginary eyes at Carol's words, but Beverly couldn't help the small smirk from sneaking out over her lips at the silly, lovesick way Carol was behaving. Almost as if the entire axis of the world had shifted in the last week or so and everybody was in the good place for once. She really wanted to hate the whole sappy thing but she also remembered how happy she had been when she and Sean had finally reconciled after such a disastrous time of it for years. “Awww. That's sweet.”

“Wait, wait. Are you just saying that?”

Beverly held up her hands. “Not at all. If you feel that strongly, ring her. I'm sure she's waiting by the phone, knowing Helen.”

Carol brushed her off. “Oh, be quiet.” Her voice wavered a bit, glancing around as they headed down the hill and until letting out a frustrated groan and reaching into the elastic waistband of her yoga pants. There was a bit of a struggle around the baby bump but eventually there was a triumphant guffaw. Beverly hadn't meant for Carol to ring her girlfriend immediately. More like on the drive back home, where she wouldn't have to listen to it. Again.

“Hi, sweetie.” Carol's trilling voice floated over from her left and this time Beverly's eyes did roll. “I was just thinking about you.” She giggled in a sickly sweet sort of way that made Beverly thoroughly regret even suggesting the phonecall. “Yeah, hiking with Beverly. Griffith Park... Yeah, I know right?”

Carol poked Beverly in the side with a stiff finger. “Helen says hello.”

“Hello, Helen!” She tried to make it as light as possible because really, she didn't dislike Helen (any more), and she didn't want to get in the middle of some lesbian drama (again), and she especially didn't want to offend the woman that held her and Sean's new and best TV programme in the palm of her hand (again). They all knew how well that turned out the last time.

“I know! I haven't seen you in forever!” There was another giggle from the little blonde skipping along beside her. She put a hand over her phone and craned her neck towards Beverly. Her high-pitched voice came out in an excited whisper. “She says she misses me!”

“I'll bet she does.” Hardly a surprise.

Carol began blathering into her phone enthusiastically while Beverly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently exhaling out all the things she was dying to say. They were only about 5 minutes away from the car. Only 5 more minutes of half-listening to her friend's absurdly chirpy voice in her ear as she chattered incessantly about absolutely nothing. Helen and Carol must be two peas in a pod to carry on like they did.

“Why don't you come meet us at Mustard Seed? Of course it is!” _Oh, wonderful._ A double date. There was no way she wasn't going to text Sean and beg him to join them. It's not that she didn't like Helen, or spending time with her and Carol. It's just that if she had to suffer through a newly infatuated couple, she'd really rather have someone to voice her snarky comments to under her breath. It didn't pack the same punch when no one was around to appreciate her biting sarcasm and wit.

 

Twitching would be a mild way to describe the way Carol was moving about in her seat. Obviously, Helen hadn't arrived yet and her strange little girlfriend was becoming more and more agitated as the seconds (yes, literally, _seconds_ ) ticked by. It wasn't even like they'd been waiting for very long at all. Beverly kicked at her under the table, her toes coming into hard contact with a bare shin. Carol yelped, almost like a second-thought, but ceased with the fidgeting of her hands at the very least. The server brought out 2 glasses of iced tea, a lemon fizzy water, and one hot tea. Sure, it was 23 degrees Celsius, but bloody hell she was going to enjoy this tea. There were some sacrifices she would never make, even if Americans still had not grasped the concept of good tea. _Yes, some people actually do prefer tea over coffee in the morning. I'm very sorry I have to specify that I like my tea hot. No, I do not want chamomile for breakfast. In fact, no, I never want chamomile tea for any reason at any time, ever._

Carol slid the boring, completely Hollywood gourmet lemon fizzy water over to where Helen was meant to be and took a large gulp of her iced tea.

Sean was next to arrive, thankfully. Sometimes just the feeling of him next to her was enough to dampen the irritation she felt for life in general. They all fell into easy conversation about the hike and Sean's gym woes just now but Carol's eyes were still darting around every so often, her very limited attention span split in two.

“Would you _please_ settle down?” Beverly snapped, finally wrangling control of Carol's gaze for longer than 3 seconds. “You are being bloody ridiculous.”

“Who's ridiculous?”

Before the words were even out, Carol's eyes went wide and her mouth agape in a gasp. “Oh!” And instead of what had become the norm for Helen's interruptions, the blonde's lips turned into a bright grin. Dressed down far more than she'd seen her boss, Helen was in a lightweight hoodie and jeans; the picture of California casual. Between the pleasant look on her face and the unexpected pink hoodie, this Helen looked like a totally different person. Gone were the stern, perfectly-fitted blazers and the poker-straight hair. Maybe this was the softer, relaxed version of Helen Carol saw?

“Hi, guys,” Helen said absently, giving Sean and Beverly a breezy wave before leaning down to kiss Carol softly. “Hi, honey.”

As Helen took her seat, Beverly watched her friend. It was literally as if she was in a daze... or stoned as hell. It was always a bit hard to tell with Carol when she got like this. Without missing a beat, Helen launched into pleasantries and easy small talk with the table, sliding her arm nonchalantly around the back of Carol's chair, who was now visibly calmer. The whole picture just reminded Beverly of a couple who had been together for years (but not so long that they were no longer even mildly affectionate). Every movement was so casual and second-nature. Never would she have guessed these two had only been together just under a fortnight. Well, this time around anyway. A small smile grew slowly over Bev's lips as she attempted to concentrate on what Sean and Helen were talking about but it was hard to ignore the moony gaze emanating from the woman beside Helen. Okay, maybe only one half of the relationship seemed like an old hand at this. The other half looked like a teenager with their first crush.

 

Overall, the meal wasn't quite as unbearable as she had expected although it was still nice to have Sean to fill in the awkward silent bits where the past lingered a bit too long and nobody wanted to listen to each other chew the crispy, delicious salads. He was so adorably naive about some things. Everything was going smoothly and it bode well for the future if they could do this weird boss-employee double-date thing without any serious hiccups. Chances were that Carol and Helen weren't going to be breaking up any time in the near future so spending time with her friend would also involve Helen occasionally in some capacity. And frankly, Helen in person was actually more tolerable than having Carol yapping into her phone ceaselessly.

“So, how's the baby thing coming along then? Incubating nicely?” She could hear the toothy grin in her husband's voice.

Helen openly cringed and Carol just laughed off Sean's choice of words. “Oh, it's fine. It's great. Nothing a little dope can't solve!”

Was it a joke? They way she and Helen exchanged that stupid, smug look made it seem as if there was something missing to this story. “You're...?”

“Not serious,” Helen butt in. “She's kidding.”

“Right,” Carol agreed, shifting in her seat and defiantly refusing to meet Beverly's glare. “And anyway, it's good. I have my first ultrasound next week!”

“Well, that's exciting!” Sean sounded far more enthusiastic than Beverly had ever seen him be around the concept of children. For a brief, terrifying moment she wondered if perhaps they'd made some sort of miscalculation... Until she remembered the time they went to see his brother and his 3 horrid children and Sean left early, almost in tears, almost going mad. “Isn't that exciting?” He nudged her with an elbow.

“Absolutely. I can just imagine how enjoyable that experience is going to be, with the uncomfortable pee-holding and cold gel and blurry, unrecognizable photo.”

Carol pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, with Helen mirroring her head tilt. And there she'd done it. Pissed off the expecting lesbians in a single sentence. Neither said a word and Beverly realised that perhaps it wasn't the most intelligent move to be disdainful of pregnancy in front of a woman who was positively excited about having a baby. (Much more now than she had been before the day of that deposition. There hadn't been a single instance of “the damn baby” since.)

Wonderful, lovely, dear Sean of course came to her rescue. Or so she had thought. “So, is Merc going to be joining you for the appointment?”

_OH JESUS FUCK.  
_

_Stupid, thick, foolish, dim-witted, idiot husband of mine, you did not just do that. Please._ She hoped her eyes were saying all of those things but as Sean glanced around the table, he didn't seem to understand exactly what he had just dumped on everybody.

Helen's whole demeanour changed instantly. “Merc?”

Oh, holy hell. This is the precise reason she'd been insisting that Carol tell Helen as soon as possible. By the tone of Helen's voice, she had no idea and the very concept of Merc being the father was revolting. (Honestly, she couldn't blame the woman). Carol's face was drained of colour until she was virtually ash white and she studiously seemed to be avoiding Helen's glare by picking at the napkin.

Since nobody wanted to answer the hypothetical question that everyone already knew the answer to, Helen edged away from Carol. Gone was the relaxed feel of the afternoon. “And all of you know?”

Carol could literally do nothing but shrug and fling the blame elsewhere. “I only told Beverly!” Her voice was so high-pitched it would scare dolphins. That was the sound of someone who knew she was deep in the shit and there was no easy way out. But nevertheless, it seemed like she was trying to pin the spread of gossip on Beverly instead.

Defensively, Beverly tried to sputter out a sentence. “I-I only told Sean.” It worked. Helen's death stare shifted onto Sean, patiently awaiting an excuse.

“I didn't tell anyone!” And then he winced. “I may have mentioned it to Matt. But in my defense, I was very, very drunk. And so was he. Yeah. He probably doesn't remember anyway.”

“So, everybody, including _Matt fucking LeBlanc_ , knows that Carol here is carrying Merc's disgusting little sweating potato baby? Everybody except—wait for it—me!”

“Like I said, Matt probably doesn't remember.”

“Not helpful!” Helen snapped.

Beverly couldn't stop staring at everyone's terrified faces. There had to be a way out of this horrible conversation; one that really needed to be left between Carol and Helen. She grabbed her purse and clumsily picked out her wallet. “I'm going to get the bill and we're going to go, home, and not come back. Lunch is on me. Thanks for the splendid company.” She was up out of her seat faster possibly than ever before in her life, juggling her credit cards in one hand.

It was curious, and a bit admirable, how Carol could just scream without making a sound. There was some definite begging going on in that panic-stricken face. Her eyes were so wide, desperate for an escape. After all, they'd driven to the hike together so she and Sean taking off would literally be abandoning her friend at a restaurant, miles from her home. With an incredibly angry girlfriend.

Sean followed suit, and kept smiling as apologetically as he could, knowing he was the reason all this started. “So sorry. I thought—Okay. Anyway. Nice to see you both. We should do it again.” He crept away after Beverly. “Bye. Bye-bye. Bye.”

When they were both out of sight, Beverly managed a long sigh. Her husband ambled alongside her, tentatively reaching for her hand. The poor, stupid man. She grabbed tightly to him and hoped to god that Sean hadn't completely fucked Carol right over and out of her happiest ever relationship. She didn't dare sneak a peek back at the women.

_Bloody fucking hell._


	9. Episode 9 (Helen)

Merc Lapidus? Merc fucking Lapidus? Fucking Merc?! Repulsive bazooka dick, fart stain Merc. Of all the fucking assholes. There was literally nobody worse that she could have imagined to father Carol's child. Nobody. And Jesus fucking Christ, she'd never even entertained the idea of that walking scrotum. Especially because, for the last few months, Morning Randolph had been hanging off his stumpy little arm with that massive, sparkling rock on her finger. She had considered any number of men and situations since Carol was petulantly not forthcoming. She'd made her peace with all of the options. Except... Fuck, she hated Merc. Shit, shit, shit.

Carol looked like a deer in headlights, trembling, and even perhaps with the beginning stages of tears welling up in her eyes. But still... fucking Merc Lapidus. And everyone else knew. Everybody except her, the woman that was helping Carol through this pregnancy and was willing to raise this kid with her. _Raise Merc Lapidus' kid_. _Oh hell fucking no._ The very thought made her skin crawl and found herself acutely aware of the depressing fact that her love for Carol was painfully conditional when it came to Merc.

This also meant that sometime in the last few months, that big prick had had his little prick inside Carol again.

Shit. She couldn't even look at Carol anymore. Without saying another word, she stood up from the table, vaguely heard some sounds coming from Carol, and walked away, leaving the other woman sitting at the table alone. She'd made it almost to her car down the street when she stopped abruptly and pulled out her phone. Laura was now one of her most recently dialled numbers. She waited and waited for the voicemail to kick in and left what she hoped was something not too frantic, but upset enough for Laura to realise this was a big deal.

Even just talking to a machine about the vague details, she felt her blood pressure lower enough to think it over. Did she love Carol enough to do this? Did she hate Merc enough to throw Carol out to the curb to deal with all of this bullshit on her own?

Her feet seemed to answer her questions for her.

Carol was still sitting on the patio, phone pressed to her ear as she roughly wiped her eyes free of what were likely tears. Looking up when Helen's shadow passed over her, there was a look of shock. And the something approaching tentative relief. She put the phone down. “Beverly drove me. I didn't bring my wallet.”

 _Yeah, congratulations, Helen. You literally abandoned your girlfriend (or whatever) in Los Feliz._ What a bitchy thing to do, especially when it was one of her own biggest fears. And seriously, she didn't admit to many of those. “Come on. I'll drive you home.” The tone wasn't friendly or kind but it was carefully measured and it was obvious that Carol moved slowly, trying to determine exactly what was happening.

They walked in silence to her Lexus on Franklin. The skin prickled along her arms, her throat tight and aching to just scream or yell or cry or say something—anything—that would lessen the tension between them. And of course there was the anxious pull in her muscles, dying to reach out and just touch her. Why? It made no sense. Next to her, Carol was walking stiffly, each step attuned to Helen's pace. She slid into the passenger seat without a peep which just forced the pressure to rise.

The clenching in her jaw and the slow grind of her teeth against themselves was causing a rope of pain to wrap itself around her neck and shoulders. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel with purpose, turning her knuckles white and an occasional twitch began worrying her left eye. Fuck. She hadn't really felt quite this angry in months, perhaps not since that other hiking day. Yeah, that one. What the hell was it about hiking?

“I'm so sorry.”

Helen didn't even know how to respond to that. It was nice of course, but hardly enough. She stared ahead into the traffic, wondering how many green lights she'd be able to make in row if she drove as fast as possible.

“Look, I didn't tell you because... well, I don't know why!” Carol huffed, flapping her hands down against her legs. “It's a shitty thing to do and you deserved to know but you never asked so I thought you didn't care—that it didn't even matter who it was.”

What a crappy excuse. “Oh, oh, it matters... when it's that particular fuck stick. Exactly which part of Merc Lapidus being your baby's father did you think wouldn't matter to me?” She scowled, lines carving deeply into her cheeks. “That is about the only time it _does_ matter.” The light turned amber. She hit the gas, hard, flinging them both back into their seats. “And I didn't ask you because I trusted you to tell me, not have it come from fucking Sean Lincoln—after he's told everyone else. Oh yeah, that doesn't make me feel like shit at all.”

Carol shrugged again. “Well, eh, it's only Merc.”

If Carol was trying to pick the exact wrong things to say she was doing a bang-up job of it. Helen gunned the engine through another yellow light along Franklin, screeching to a stop mere inches from the bumper of a blue hatchback in front of her.

“I can't even talk to you right now.” _It's only Merc?_ What kind of thing was that to say anyway? Disgusting, was what. “No, actually. How about this? You _totally_ know how I feel about that high-functioning dick with ears. He's not just anybody. He's not any old regular Joe to me, and he's certainly not any old guy to you. You fucked him for FIVE YEARS. And now you're pregnant with his child and conveniently refrain from telling me that tiny, little shit nugget.”

Next to her, Carol was studiously chewing on a nail. Was she shaking? That wasn't okay.

“So, like, were you just never going to tell me and have it be a cute surprise on the birth certificate? Or how about when he fights you in court for visitation with his 6th wife?”

By some grand miracle, the traffic on Sunset was much lighter and the engine revved high as she took off down the block. It was probably a bad idea to be behind the wheel of such a powerful machine when she was seething like this, but fuck it. The concentration required to weave in the traffic was the only thing stopping her from saying something she really, really would regret.

“I was going to tell you.”

Helen had to laugh at the bald-faced lie. “I'll bet.”

“Look, I'm not proud of it, okay? I didn't plan it. I literally, literally wanted to die when I saw the test. I had no job, nothing to do—”

“You had him. Don't even pretend like you didn't consider your future with him and this baby.” She passed a shiny, ostentatious pick-up truck. As far as she could see was green.

“Sure, okay. Fine. I did. But you know what? None of this shit would have happened at all, like at all, if we'd still been together.”

“Really? You don't say!”

“I don't mean like that! I was lonely, all right? And he showed up, all nice." She scoffed a bit knowing now it had been yet another ploy. "Right after I saw you that day. You know, the one. At Vincente. I was _fucking miserable_ after that. And I got really, _really_ stoned, made a mistake. A few times.”

She was clearly on the verge of crying and Helen was struck with the shitty, guilty feeling of being the cause of this yet again. It's not like she enjoyed it. She hadn't enjoyed it (not really) back when she kicked Carol off the set of The Box. (Okay, maybe a little bit.) But she remembered that afternoon at Vincente too and, being truly honest, she definitely hadn't enjoyed seeing Carol such a terrible mess then. She hadn't enjoyed it when she saw the glimmer of tears in Carol's eyes in the law office bathroom. And she definitely wasn't thrilled with this conversation. But come on. There was part of her that had to convince herself not to cry as well. Just the thought that Carol held something so important back and they'd barely even reconciled from the last time. Nobody seemed to care if Helen Basch was in pain. Because she wasn't supposed to get sad, be hurt, or be weak.

“I hate that he's the father. I _hate_ it.” She ground the words out between clenched teeth, swinging the car roughly into the far right lane to speed around a slow moving SUV, and whipped it back into the proper lane just barely missing a parked car.

Carol didn't respond to the statement. There wasn't really anything to say that would make much of a difference. It's not like anybody could change Helen's feelings and no amount of logic could ever help. Emotions, especially the bad ones, were funny that way. Instead, they sat in silence all the way down the boulevard, drifting and dodging in and out of traffic. Maybe she was driving a bit like a maniac but it was only to get this whole uncomfortable ride over sooner. They were about 5 minutes away from Carol's house when Helen finally broke the silence again.

“Does he know?”

Carol shook her head, slowly. She let out a shaky sigh. “No.”

“Hmm.”

Nothing more was said until Helen pulled into Carol's driveway. Throwing the car into park, she didn't attempt to make eye contact. Carol sullenly reached for her seat-belt buckle but remained seated even after it recoiled back. Helen could feel the discomfort pouring over them both the longer they remained together.

“Do you want to come in?” Carol attempted, quietly, already knowing the answer.

Helen scoffed, vainly trying to cover up the fact she could literally feel her heart breaking in her chest. “I don't think that's a good idea right now, do you?” Carol wasn't the only person who needed space and time alone. Again, she heard Laura's careful voice echoing in her head about not flipping out, not blowing up, just disconnecting and getting out the situation before she fucked it up irreparably. Part of her still had that nagging feeling that maybe it was better if it was irreparable because she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get over this anyway. What difference did it really make? But then, again, she was reminded of her fucking depressing bed, the way her life—even without Carol actually in it—ended up being about her. She could only think about the way everything in the whole fucking world felt better when Carol genuinely laughed at one of her really bad jokes or casually kissed her goodbye in the morning. Going home after work to talk to this aggravating woman, even just for 10 minutes, was all she could think about at the end of the day, like some sort of pathetic tween.

“Right. Okay.” Carol pushed open the passenger door, lingering uncertainly, as if she was afraid that if she left everything would be over. “Well, I'll talk to you later then?”

The older woman ran a hand over her tired face. “Sure, fine. Later.” Of course she hadn't expected any of this. Things were going so fucking well. It was like her own little version of heaven most days, until now. If she was honest, Helen had been expecting a shitstorm like this. Something was bound to come around and fuck everything up. She rarely had any good luck in her personal life and it had been that way for over 15 years. But even with all that, she couldn't quite bring herself to break the curse. Maybe this was just the way it was going to be.

Carol hesitated once more, looking Helen over before hopping out and closing the door behind her. Within a few seconds, she was inside and the car was silent. Her phone vibrated with a message from Laura, no doubt rational and calming, and clarity managed to sneak back into her life for a moment. Helen shifted into drive and started out of the driveway. She'd made it a mile down the road, lost in her own twisting thoughts, before slamming on the brakes and making a ridiculously sharp U-turn.

The knock thundered through the front door and she could see the shadow of Carol right before it opened. The face that greeted her was tear-stained and puffy-eyed already but the second she realised it was Helen, everything relaxed and she let out this soft, relieved breath and a very cautious smile.

“Okay, look,” Helen didn't even expect herself to be here so it was new territory. She shifted her weight back and forth. “I fucking hate that Merc is your baby's father.” Ugh, the disgust was still so strong, pumping through her veins like poison. She took a deep breath, watching carefully as Carol studied every minute expression. She was clearly apprehensive, on edge and waiting for more shitty news. As she looked at Carol, she couldn't help it and her words came out like a wistful sigh. “But, oh, fuck it... I love _you_ more.”

Twice. She'd now said it twice and the world hadn't fallen apart. And neither had Carol. Yet. In fact, she had that same look on her face that was there the first time around, like she couldn't believe someone was saying it to her and meaning it. Her lip wobbled and her blue eyes shone with unshed tears. This time Carol lunged forward, grasping at her hoodie, and burying her face in the crook of Helen's neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I'm sorry.”

Absolutely everything about this stupid, stubborn, endearing woman made Helen question herself and the way she'd learned to deal with people. Her breath came out as a languid sigh and her arms wound themselves tightly around Carol and she nuzzled into her hair. “I'm sorry too.” Even if she was pissed off (and she _really_ was), it felt so good to hold Carol like this. Laura had said once not to fight a competing emotion even if it seemed like she should. Just because she was angry did not mean she had to resist feeling vulnerable or needy. And she'd pointedly said not to actively choose anger over everything else when given the option. So, here she was, angry still but also longing to just feel Carol against her because hell, she needed comfort too sometimes. Especially now, knowing one of the men she loathed most in the entire world would be in their lives forever. (She honestly wanted it to last.)

“I'm going to come in,” Helen stated, unconcerned whether there was an invitation or not.

Carol pulled back just enough to look into Helen's eyes but refused to let her grip loosen. “Good.” The older woman brushed a thumb across faintly freckled cheeks in front of her, clearing away the drying tears.

The was an unfamiliar desperation in Carol's entire demeanour, a neediness that had very rarely been so blatantly present. In fairness, she had already momentarily walked out on Carol twice today, which had certainly made some sort of impact. She was met halfway when she leant in. Carol's kiss was laced with urgency and this was probably part of the reason Helen knew she'd never be able to get this woman out of her mind for the rest of her life, no matter what ended up happening down the road. She felt herself being pulled inside the house and kicked the door shut with a foot, trying her best not to break any contact.

She needn't have worried because Carol was uncharacteristically assertive, aggressive even. It was hot as fuck to feel this wanted in return. Her skin tingled all over as she pushed the blonde up against her foyer wall, and the complementary moan reverberated straight through them both. She could taste the sweat from her hike earlier as she kissed down Carol's neck. Two hands grabbed hard at her hips, deliberately angling a thigh between her legs and Helen groaned at the firm contact.

As Carol arched against her, grinding more intently, the younger woman was breathing hard. “Your purple t-shirt is here if you need something to sleep in later.”

Helen could help the small chuckle as she moved her lips down to the blonde's collarbone. She slid her hands inside Carol's tank top, feeling hot skin of her smooth waist. Sleep was just about the last thing on her mind. “It's only 3 in the afternoon.”

“Exactly.”


	10. Episode 10 (Carol)

Carol meandered out of the en-suite, toothbrush dangling out of her mouth and toothpaste frothing at the edge of her lips. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, complete with a scrunchie and her robe was open, showing off a quickly growing baby bump under the grey tank top and pyjama shorts. She regarded the woman on the bed with satisfaction. The brunette was wearing her glasses, completely absorbed in whatever rag she was reading. Her bare legs almost glowed in the dim, golden light of the bedroom and she was in a familiar blue James Perse t-shirt.

She scrubbed a bit more at her teeth and swallowed the minty toothpaste. She knew how grossed out Helen was by that.

“I know what you just did,” came the low voice even if Helen didn't once glance up from her reading. “You're impossible.”

Carol scoffed, waving the toothbrush like a wand. “Yeah, well, guess what?”

Still, Helen wouldn't look up. “What?” She scribbled something on the trade magazine she was reading, prepping or something for Beverly and Sean's screening of their new pilot tomorrow. It was crazy that it had been 3 months already since the network picked it up. (And 3 months since Helen had come after her in the bathroom. 3 wild, challenging, ecstatic months.)

“You know, Todd from Research?”

“Taaahhdd,” Helen intoned, nasally mimicking the man's accent, a half-smile spreading over her face.

“Tahd!”

“Tahd from the Midwest!”

This was how it always went when the subject of Todd arose. He was a character at least. “How often does he visit your office?”

Finally Helen put down the magazine, and stared at Carol, an eyebrow quirked just enough. “Maybe twice ever. Why?”

She wandered back to the bathroom and rinsed off the toothbrush, making Helen wait for the story. She knew how much her girlfriend loved that. She came back out with a washed face and a grin to see Helen snuggled up under the duvet. “Well, clearly we need to move him from research because he knows absolutely nothing.”

Padding over to the bed, she dropped her bathrobe on the floor and crawled under the sheets, still beaming with the story in her head. “So, I guess he went to see you yesterday?” Her voice was almost squeaking.

Helen shifted over a bit as she curled up against her, stretching and arm across the warm body. The older woman's fingers found their way to Carol's ponytail, fiddling a bit with the scrunchie. “Yeah. Again: why?”

“Well, he came into see me yesterday too about some issues about the archival footage for that upcoming Twinkie doc.” Carol snuggled even closer, settling in for the night. She could feel the gentle beat of Helen's heart under her cheek. “So, I don't know how we hired this guy 'cause he can't seem to put two and two together. Anyway, he was standing there after his big spiel about the cream-pumping footage and I saw him staring at the photo on my desk. You know, the ultrasound. And get this, he looks at it and looks at me and is like, 'Is that yours?'”

Helen chuckled a little at that.

“So I said, 'Obviously.' and I swear to god, he just stood there staring blankly for 2 minutes. I counted! Until finally he was like, 'Are a lot of women around here pregnant?' Which I thought was a bit weird of a question. And I hadn't known he'd been to see you first so I had no idea until he said, 'Miss Basch is too, you know. She has a photo like that behind her desk.'”

“Because you wouldn't know that. Because we never speak,” Helen scoffed, laughing at the idea Carol wouldn't have noticed such a thing in her office.

“Right? Anyway, I said, 'It's the same picture.' And you should have seen the total confusion there. Like, how is this guy in research?” It was something Carol had been wondering since the encounter.

“Does he live under a rock?” Helen's amused voice was incredulous. “I didn't think he was that dim. Are there are actually people who still don't know?”

It's not like she and Helen had actively kept it a secret but they hadn't been obvious about it either. Apparently, some people needed an office-wide memo to get the picture. Everyone who worked with them on a daily basis was completely aware, to the point it became something of a joke to some colleagues. (Okay. Andy. Just Andy. And maybe Myra but you never could tell.) It had never occurred to her that the rest of the network wouldn't know.

“I guess so. And it was pretty funny watching him try to piece it all together. Until he just said, 'Why does she have a photo of your baby?' It was honestly the funniest thing all week. But I had to put the poor guy out of his misery so I told him it was our baby and he turned the most hilarious shade of _purple_ he was so embarrassed!”

Carol was giggling to herself with the memory but she realised Helen hadn't made a peep, and her body seemed a bit tense. She craned her neck up to chance a peek at Helen's face to maybe figure out what was happening. She knew it wasn't the best story ever, and certainly not on Helen's level of storytelling ability, but amusing enough. Clearly her girlfriend wasn't quite so pleased. There was a moisture in her eyes and she looked lost.

“What?” she finally asked, worry sneaking out of her tone.

For another moment, Helen said nothing until she slowly slid her hand across to rub a slow circle over the growing swell in Carol's abdomen, almost a bit reverently. “You've never said that before.” Her voice was low, soft, strained. And if Carol didn't know better, it sounded a bit hurt or something. It was hard to tell because it was so unfamiliar. “You've said: the baby, this baby, my baby sometimes even. Never _our baby_.”

The sound wasn't pain; it was joy, or relief. Or some mixture of the two. And she was right. Carol hadn't even noticed, if she was honest. They'd been in this together for months but until yesterday, Carol had still felt like part of her was alone. Even after everything. Even after Helen had specially ordered these stupid dill pickle-flavoured chips from Canada that Carol remembered from her childhood in Michigan. The ones with the windmill on them. One night that is all she wanted: those specific chips, with hot jalapeno salsa and her girlfriend had incessantly been on the phone all morning until a package showed up on Carol's doorstep late that very afternoon. Even after all that.

Now Helen had her hand, gentle and warm, on the baby bump. Adoringly. Protectively. It felt so damn perfect.

She remembered as a kid, not quite understanding the idea of 'a family you choose'. People had said that there's a family you're born into and a family you choose. She had never been particularly fond of the family she was given, at least not all parts of it. It was hard, rough around the edges, sort of broken, with a lot of tension most of the time. That pressure and sometimes even an undercurrent of hostility ran through her familial relationships even now. She hadn't even told her own mother yet about, well, anything. Not about Helen, not about being pregnant.

Choosing a family had been even harder, for a long time. She kept trying and trying and trying to find them. And then Beverly waltzed off a British Airways flight, like some sort of kindred spirit. And now, with Sean of course, there was her chosen family and she would never let them go as long as she could. Beverly was her best friend; she was a stronger person and a better sister than her own flesh and blood. That's what Helen didn't understand the last time and still held true: cutting Beverly out of her life would be like chopping off her own leg. Beverly was the only family she really had here.

Until now.

Because this was sort of like choosing family but as she laid with Helen, held securely in her arms, completely at peace with the world and with the idea of this baby being _theirs_ , she realised there was another type of family: the kind you make. It had taken her just about 40 years to begin to build what so many others did in their 20s. She'd seen years of it: first in those stupid Christmas cards people sent, then in group emails, then on Facebook as almost all her friends from her younger years documented their kids' every waking moment. She wondered if that would happen to her too. Maybe it was inevitable. (Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be one of those people? Maybe they'd even do the cheesy Christmas card thing too.)

Helen's palm went flat and there was a tiny gasp. “Did you feel that?”

Carol glanced down, worried for a second. “What?”

“That was a kick!”

“Oh. Really? That's been going on for like a week.” She scrunched up her nose. “I thought it was just gas.”

It was the first kick of her baby that she'd known as such. Helen eagerly grabbed for her hand and placed it where hers had been and they waited quietly, expectantly. It was only a twinge but it was there and from the outside, she realised what Helen was talking about. When she met Helen's gaze, she was certain her face was an exact mirror of the elation she saw. _Their baby_. It was like an actual thing, moving on its own.

Her _family_. Her chest felt tight and her mind a bit light-headed. She reached up, placed a palm against Helen's cheek, pushing a lock of hair back fondly, searching her eyes for something.

“I love you.”

It came out of Carol almost breathlessly, like a second thought, like she hadn't even realised she was going to say it. And the fact was, she hadn't. She never had before, not to Helen and not out loud anyway. It had always been like a jinx or something and eventually it wasn't worth the risk. They had been doing so well, both professionally and outside work. It was also kind of a big deal to say that when it'd been such a rare thing her entire life. Hearing it from Helen, every so often, sometimes so casually, always made her pulse quicken with a sort of profound happiness but also in anticipation of something she'd never been able to explain.

That something was probably this: the way it came out of her without thinking, just feeling. The way Helen froze for a moment but she could still feel the other woman's heartbeat grow slightly faster and harder. The way she couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the words whispered back to her. The way she didn't really have time to think at all before she felt soft lips against her own, so zealously yet carefully. The way they just melted together and everything felt so complete.

And she didn't feel hives anywhere at all. But there was a deep, almost savage growling in her stomach as she slowly pulled away from one of the most satisfying kisses of her life. She stared into Helen's expectant and enamoured brown eyes.

“Do we have any of those dill pickle chips left?” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Even I think it's weird to write Episodes fic but I just can't help it. Sorry, also, that I am not clever enough to be as witty and humorous as Episodes should be. But... These two are just... so... *sigh*. They got a happy endgame. :) I need to do this. I love them sfm.


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